


Saving the World

by MaryPSue



Category: Gravity Falls, X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Self-Sacrifice, discussion of suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-04
Updated: 2017-08-04
Packaged: 2018-12-11 02:11:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11704653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaryPSue/pseuds/MaryPSue
Summary: A chance encounter in the multiverse, and a piece of advice that goes completely over Stanford Pines' head.





	Saving the World

**Author's Note:**

> For some reason I never crossposted this from tumblr? Rectifying that now.
> 
> This is pure self-indulgence, just a couple of faves hanging out and having a discussion on the nature of heroic self-sacrifice. Too bad they're both talking past each other. Also too bad that Ford is about as good at listening to other people and taking their advice as the average houseplant.

“You know that’s the easy way out.”

Ford half-turns.

He doesn’t recognise the redheaded woman leaning against the snow-covered railing next to him, looking intently at - or possibly through - him. It takes him a moment, and a glance down at the ice-glazed water far below them, for him to figure out why she’s approached him. 

“Oh! No, I’m afraid you’re mistaken,” he says, with a smile that he hopes looks easy and dismissive. “I’m not planning to jump. Well, I am, but it’s not what you think. There’s a dimensional intersection approximately halfway between us and the water, and if I time the drop correctly, this device will split it open for just long enough for me to fall through -”

“I know,” the woman says, and leans her chin in her hand. She doesn’t take her eyes from Ford’s face. “That wasn’t what I meant.”

Ford’s mind whirls.

It’s possible that he’s missed some subtle social cue, it’s never been his forte, especially not with a beautiful woman in the equation - not that he’s considering her based on the merits of her appearance, only to make a purely objective, scientific conjecture about her relative social positioning based on what he’s able to observe - he hasn’t exactly had a multitude of opportunities to practice interacting with the fairer sex - is this about romance? Please, let this not be about romance. 

The woman smiles, broad and warm and faintly amused. “No, it’s not about romance,” she says, and there’s a note of indulgence in her voice, like a teacher humouring a favourite pupil who is having difficulty with a particular lesson. Ford can feel the tips of his ears burn. 

“Mental telepathy?” he hears himself say, marvelling at the muted horror in his own voice. “Of course, not to imply that you might not also be - or only be - an excellent student of human behaviour, but I’ve always felt it’s important not to simply rule out the possibility of the fantastic.” He manages, somehow, to shut his mouth before his tongue runs away with him again, attempts to lean casually and unconcernedly against the railing and misses on his first attempt, nearly falling into the icy slush that coats the walkway along the bridge. He recovers his balance, eventually, adjusts his overcoat and clears his throat, as though that will actually help.

“Sorry,” the woman says, her smile barely dimming. “But you’re broadcasting so loud you’re practically your own talk radio station. I couldn’t just let you drop out of this dimension without at least saying hello.”

Ford curses under his breath. Bill had always -

He clamps firmly down on the thought, on the whole mess it threatens to dredge up with it, turns his full attention back to the woman beside him. Her smile is gone, now, her gaze thoughtful as she looks him over.

“Do you know why I’m here to talk to you, instead of miles upstate?” she asks, and Ford shakes his head mutely, silently berating his traitor brain. “I tried it. The whole bit about sacrificing yourself to save the world.” For an instant, a smile cracks her face again, brief and mirthless. “About three times, actually. And do you know what I found out?”

Ford shakes his head. Tries not to think too loudly that if she’d got three tries at it, she must not have been making a big enough sacrifice. This isn’t his world, after all. This isn’t Bill’s target. Perhaps the stakes here are lower. Or perhaps - perhaps she’s like him, permanently displaced in the multiverse. He doesn’t know. He can’t know. All he knows is that his window to get out of this dimension is rapidly closing.

The woman frowns. “Don’t worry, you’ll get your ride out of this dimension. You’re going to want to pay attention to this part first.”

Ford swallows, feeling his ears burn for the second time this conversation. “Please go on.”

The woman looks at him sidelong for a moment, seems to make up her mind. “What I learned from dying to save the world was that every time I came back, the world still needed saving.”

“Ah,” Ford says, after a long moment.

The look the woman levels at him says very clearly that she knows he doesn’t understand one iota of whatever she’s trying to communicate.

“That’s why I’m here, ” she says, at last, thankfully turning to look out at the river instead of at Ford’s reddening face. “Now I’m trying to figure out how to live to save the world instead. It’s a lot harder, but…actually, no, no buts. It’s a lot harder.”

“Well, good for you,” Ford says, in a tone he hopes isn’t too patronising.

The woman lets out a long, defeated breath. It billows in the cold, clear air.

“The dimension you can get into from that intersection you were planning to rip open is one where everyone’s a zombie,” she says, at last. “I’ve seen it, briefly, once. Not a place you want to take a vacation.”

“Really?” Ford asks, and then, quickly, in case she can hear the doubt in his thoughts, “Thank you.”

“Don’t sound so disappointed, I promised you’d get your chance to skip this dimension and I meant it,” the woman says, her smile slowly returning. “There’s another Earth set to intersect with this one -” She shuts her eyes. A gust of icy wind catches her scarlet hair, tosses it like a flame. When she opens her eyes, Ford’s heart seizes at the faint, fading impression of glow. “In about an hour, downtown, between the bookstore and the 6th Street Starbucks. Leads to a tropical island. And you won’t even have to jump off a bridge to get through.”

“Excellent,” Ford says, knows it sounds stiff, wondering why he’d let the charge on his blaster run down, knowing it’s already too late. “I should go, then.”

“I’m not - Bill Cipher,” the woman says, the name stilted on her tongue, unfamiliar, plucked straight out of Ford’s head. “I should have thought what it’d look like, but your personal demon isn’t the only one out there. I know you -”

“You don’t know anything,” Ford says, shortly. Slush crunches under his boots as he shifts, ready to run, ready to fight.

The woman -

\- _burns, a pillar of flame in a vaguely human shape, vast and grand and terrible wings unfurling at her back_ -

\- sighs, and tucks her hands into the pockets of her puffy jacket. “Fine. Just don’t be surprised when you get through and there’s a legion of zombies waiting for you on the other side.”

She turns and walks away, leaving Ford to wonder whether he’d imagined what he thought he’d just seen. But there’s a clear patch of sidewalk in the dirty slush where she’d been standing, and following her across the bridge, a trail of steaming footprints.

Ford looks down over the railing, at approximately the place where the next dimension he’d been planning to leap to should be, and then takes a slow, cautious step back.


End file.
